


Anniversary

by Turtles_Invoked



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Established Pack, Fluff I guess, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Snuggling, sterek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-07-27 14:48:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16221326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Turtles_Invoked/pseuds/Turtles_Invoked
Summary: It’s another anniversary of the fire and Derek can’t bring himself to go back to the Hale house or to the graveyard, so he goes somewhere that (to someone who) can provide a bit of comfort.





	Anniversary

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing
> 
> Sorry in advanced for any grammatical errors

Whilst things have quietened down, supernaturally wise, things were far from quiet in the Stilinski house. What started off as Scott and Stiles’ (not so) weekly ‘Lazy Day Saturday’ featuring Doritos, pizza rolls, and a Harry Potter Marathon, is now a house full of aggressive werewolves, minus their alpha, battling it out on Mario Kart Wii. They’re paying teams since the game doesn’t allow for more than four players to compete at one time. At the moment it was Boyd, Erica, Lydia, and Jackson dodging weird mutations of penguin-crocodile things on Peach Beach. They were all top five in frantic mode, and frantic it was. The Wii remotes were vibrating every other second as a potential threat creeped up. Shells; red, green, and blue, were shot from every player at every angle. The ‘whoop, whoop, whoop’ of the TV every time a player quadrupled in size echoed throughout the room. Their thumbs were white as if pressing the button harder would allow them to drive faster, and their elbows jostled every time they turned a corner. They glared at the screen growling profanities at each other whenever they ran into something or were shot at.

Lydia was sat at the opposite end of the couch to Stiles, her small frame squished into the arm and Jackson with her legs over Jackson’s lap. Scott sat in between Jackson and Stiles, who was also squeezed into the arm. Isaac sat on the floor in front of Scott practically sitting on his feet and next to Boyd who was sat in front of Jackson with Erica lying down in front of him, her head in his lap. They had moved the coffee table to the side to allow room.

Stiles wasn’t watching this round too intently, his head flicking between the TV and his phone where he was drafting a text.

“Who are you texting?”  Scott leans majority of his weight onto Stiles, his head in Stiles’ way nosily reading the screen.

Stiles elbows Scott back to his side, a little too roughly, and into Jackson who complains that he messed up his shot. “Derek,” he answers hiding his phone from Scott’s peeping eyes, not that there’s anything to hide to start with, “Everyone else is here, why not invite him?”

“A-HA!” Jackson shouts whilst overtaking Lydia who shouts back at him. Stiles jumps, dropping his phone and fumbling to catch it before it lands face down on the floor. As he leaned down to pick it up, there was a knock on the door, only just audible to his human ears.

He turned the screen off and assessed it for cracks, which there was none thank God, and pocketed it, peeling himself off the couch relishing in his own personal space once again to answer the door.

“Derek! Wow. Hi. Hello. I was _literally_ in the process of texting you,” he emphasised by pulling out the device and shoving the screen into Derek’s face.

Shocked, Derek pulled his face away to read the screen just as an uproar of groans and shouts and evil laughter echoed through the house. His face paled as he looked over Stiles shoulder to see all his beta’s clumped together.

He tensed up, his shoulders tighter and higher than usual, his jaw clenched, and his hands fisted in his pockets. Stiles looked back into the house and then back at Derek. His eyebrows were furrowed and his hair a mess, though his eyes were soft and glassy.

Stiles opened his mouth as Derek’s face flushed a light shade of pink looking back at Stiles and then everywhere _but_ Stiles, “Sorry I… didn’t realise you have friends over. I can- I’m- I’ll come back later…” and just like that, turns around and walked down the driveway.

Stiles is acutely aware of the sudden blaring silence from the living room, lets the door slam shut and jogs after Derek, “Hey. Derek? Stop! Please.”

Derek stops at the foot of the driveway but doesn’t turn around. Stiles stops arm’s length away from him, one hand stowed away in his pocket to refrain from reaching out and turning Derek around himself and the other flailing as he spoke, “I only invited Scott. He then invited Isaac, who invited Boyd, who invited Erica, who invited Lydia, who just had to invite Jackson, so I thought I’d message you and see if you wanted to join. Make it a pack thing, y’know,” and pockets the other hand. When Derek still doesn’t reply, Stiles breathes out once, and breaths in and says as gently and softly as he can, “I’m not going to ask if you’re okay, because it’s obvious that you’re not.”

Stiles held his breath as Derek’s shoulders sink and he turns around. His eyes were wide and bright and sad, and his nose was tinted pink. His cheeks and ears were flushed, and his hands twitched slightly in his pockets. It was obvious that he was fighting to hold back tears. That thought alone broke Stiles heart.

He breathed heavily and shaky and nodded slightly chewing on his bottom lip, “you know.” He didn’t look at Stiles, instead cast his eyes to the ground behind Stiles shoulder. It wasn’t a question, but the crack in his voice didn’t really make it a statement either.

All Stiles could manage was a whispered, “yeah.” It was, yet again, another anniversary of the fire.

Derek let out a broken sigh, shifting his weight from side to side. He clenched his fists one last time before pulling them out of his pockets and ran them through his hair, clasping them behind his head. “I don’t know why I came here,” he laughed, though it was not the warm and fuzzy kind. More like the ‘I’m breaking and don’t know how to keep myself together’ kind.

Stiles could see the tears threatening to spill, but Derek turned away, his back facing the house and his shoulder almost pressed against Stiles’ chest.

This was the most emotion Stiles had ever seen Derek show, other than anger and frustration and he knew that Derek knew this too. He could feel how embarrassed Derek felt about it. Could hear the voice in Derek’s head; _“Get it together.” “You’re the alpha, show it.” “Weak.”_ Stiles knows that Derek is telling himself these things and it does horrible things to his heart.

He isn’t stupid. He knows what to do and how to comfort him, he just doesn’t think that it’d be welcome. Especially since they weren’t really alone either – they were standing in Stiles’ driveway with six nosey werewolves in the house, who are more than likely listening to them right now.

“If you need a shoulder… you can have mine,” Stiles offers softly, giving a sad and knowing smile as memories of his mother flashes in his mind. Derek looks up at him as a tear finally escapes, dragging its way down Derek’s cheek and disappearing into his stubble followed by another. He looks away again and aggressively wipes at the wet streak though it’s replaced almost immediately.

“Come here.” Stiles pulls Derek into his chest by his bicep and holds him there, one arm wrapped around his shoulders, palm flat between his shoulder blades firmly, the other on the back on his neck with his fingers in his hair pressing his head securely into his shoulder. Stiles rests his own head on Derek’s shoulder and breathes deeply.

Derek stands still at first, his arms trapped by his side and his faces squished into Stiles’ shoulder. Stiles can feel and hear the clicking of Derek’s jaw as he tenses it, trying to hold himself together by what little pieces remain, but a small sob forces its way out. And slowly, but all at once, Derek’s arms are around Stiles’ waist, his hands ball at Stiles’ hips bunching up and crinkling his shirt as he clutches onto him, holding them together. He buries his face in the crook of Stiles’ neck and cries silently. His shoulders shake with every sob and Stiles’ shirt grows wetter with every tear. But they stand there, and Stiles holds onto him, and will for as long as he needs.

Stiles wonders if this is the first time in a while that Derek has allowed himself to be held and express such a raw, genuine emotion. He tries to imagine how it would have felt to have no one to comfort him during his mother’s death. How alone and tired and angry he would have felt. And to have no choice but to deal with it by himself for years… But he couldn’t. He couldn’t imagine ever getting through that without his dad, and without Scott and his mom.

He blinks back his own tears and holds Derek a little bit tighter, his fingers that are in Derek’s hair rub slowly at his scalp, brushing through the fine tousled hairs.

They stand there for a couple of minutes, Derek slowly composing himself until his breathing is somewhat steady. He lifts his head and rests his chin on Stiles shoulder and sighs before whispering, “When does it stop hurting?” followed by a sharp inhale.

Stiles squeezes the nape of Derek’s neck, “it doesn’t.” He pauses to swallow down the memories of past anniversaries where his dad won’t talk, and Stiles will talk too much. They don’t cook food, but eat crappy take out -Stiles not having the heart to tell is dad off about unhealthy eating habits that one day a year. Or the times he drives himself out to her grave not nearly as often as he should with fresh flowers and talk to her, or just sit there and cry, or rant about how the werewolves of Beacon Hills are taking over his life. “But overtime it gets a little easier.”

It’s not exactly a lie, but it’s not as hard as it has been in the past. He can talk about her without welling up (it’s still sad but not so fresh), and he can talk about her illness, though not as freely. He’s careful to mention her around his dad but more and more he will mention her, and they attempt to make dinners from her recipes, but they never taste the same. But that’s okay.

Stiles doesn’t let go until Derek does; giving him the control of how long they stay in their embrace and when he does he chuckles dryly and pulls his shirt up by the collar to wipe his face. When he lets his shirt fall back down, there’s faint wet outlines of his hands there.

“Sorry,” his voice is small and croaky, his hands going back into his pockets.

“Don’t be. It’s a known fact that us Stilinski men give the best hugs.”

Derek nods lightly and casts his eyes back down to the ground.

Stiles takes a small step back into Derek’s personal space. His heart thumps in his chest, heavier than it should, and he swallows his nerves as he reaches his hand up between him and Derek to cup his jaw tentatively tilting his head up, forcing him to look at Stiles, and smiles empathetically. Derek’s doesn’t make eye contact at first; looking down at Stiles lips as they curve slightly, to his cheeks (which he can feel warming), until he closes his eyes for a bit before opening them and gazing into Stiles’.

“I’m glad you came to me,” he finally says.

Derek sighs and pulls Stiles in for another hug, one arm grasping his shoulder, the other firm around his waist. Stiles chuckles and returns it whispering, “you can always come to me.”

“I know,” Derek squeezes Stiles a little before pulling away. He keeps one hand on Stiles’ hip and brings the other up to Stiles’ shoulder where he pulls at the wet patch there and smiles before patting his shirt back down. He pulls both his hands away, but doesn’t step back, to wipe at his face again when Stiles offers him to come inside.

“I- I don’t-” he’s shaking his head and Stiles knows Derek wants to, but he also knows he doesn’t want his betas to see him like this – that he doesn’t want to look ‘weak’ in front of them, but he also knows that Derek doesn’t want to be alone. There hasn’t been a day lately where they haven’t been together, whether it be alone, or with some or all of the pack.

Stiles will stay back the longest after meetings, Derek will pop up, either after school by his jeep or in his bedroom when his dad isn’t home, randomly. More often than not it’s to get away from Peter, but he has said that he’s comfortable around Stiles and that he trusts him. There was one night where a sleep deprived Derek fell asleep to Stiles’ babbling and later admitted that Stiles’ voice soothes him. There’s been not so fun times where Derek has been roughed up by Peter or some other supernatural being and took it out on Stiles; slamming him into walls, yelling at him, and what not -not that that’s any different to when they first met. Or when Derek’s frustrated with his betas and he’ll yell at Stiles and rant about much of a distraction Stiles is too them, but he’ll apologize afterwards, and Stiles will leave only for Derek to find him later and apologize again. There’s been nights where, after run-ins with stray supernatural beings and the pack is home and healing, Derek will sneak into Stiles room and take any pain away or sit at the foot of the bed and talk about his insecurities about being alpha, or praise Stiles for his stupid, though heroic, actions. He listens to Stiles’ rants about shitty days at school, or how much of an ass Jackson is, or how much he misses Scott because he’s all over Allison. Sometimes they sit in silence, well, maybe not _silence_ ; Stiles having too much school work to do, will mumble thoughts out loud to himself, and Derek just wanting to relax will lay down, or sleep, on Stiles’ bed. During training days, Stiles will watch from the hood of his jeep or the steps of the refurbished Hale house with Derek commanding his betas from beside him. Sometimes he ‘trains’ with them, and what’s meant by that is Stiles will act as a weight for Derek; he’ll sit on his back while he does push ups or sit on his shoulders while he does squats and multitask by eating chips or something equally as ironic.

“You don’t want to come inside because there are six very annoying werewolves inside or you don’t want to interrupt?” When Derek doesn’t reply, Stiles sighs, “Come on, Derek. Knowing them, they’ve been eavesdropping and will be worried about you and they will continue to bug and annoy me if you don’t come inside. But! If you _do_ come inside, they’ll leave us both alone.”

The corners of Derek’s mouth quirks inwards a little and Stiles can’t help but beam at him. “We’ve been playing Mario Kart. In teams. Teams! Who does that!? I wanted to play pairs but there was an odd number of us so if you join we could pair _aaaand_ you’ll be on the winning team…?”

“I’ve never played Mario Kart…” Derek’s eyebrows pinch inwards in a confused frown and a small blush spreads up his cheeks as Stiles gapes at him, “Okay! Now you  _have_ to come inside!”

Stiles takes Derek’s hand in his own and pulls him in the direction of the house shaking his head as the curtains ruffle. Derek interlaces their fingers together and Stiles purposely ignores the jump in his heartbeat knowing damn well that Derek can hear it.

When they open the door, the game starts playing almost immediately, and the nosey pups pretend like they have no idea Derek is here and that they weren’t just watching from the window.

“I hate you all,” Stiles shakes his head in disapproval as they all glance over to him with guilty smiles.

“Naww, you love us,” Erica coos not looking away from the TV.

“Where are you sitting,” Derek asks, his voice just low enough for Stiles to make out.

Stiles drops their hands and sits back in his position on the couch; squished between Scott and his knees, _seriously who sits cross legged on a couch_ , and the arm of said couch. Derek waits for Stiles to get comfortable before sitting on the floor in front of him, back against the couch in between Stiles’ legs, and next to Isaac.

In the corner of his eyes, Stiles sees Scott and a few of the others glance their way but he ignores it as if this is the most normal thing ever, and as of late, it is.

Once the race is finished and the winners have been announced, Jackson, Lydia, and Boyd respectively, Stiles proposes they play in pairs. Everyone agrees and, surprisingly, there is no argument over who is with who; Derek and Stiles, Scott and Isaac, Lydia and Jackson, and Boyd and Erica. Stiles picks a cup and race hard enough so that the others won’t find it too easy but still easy enough that Derek, the Mario Kart Virgin he is, won’t find it too hard. Derek, Scott, Lydia, and Boyd go first.

While the others argue over which player they want to be, Stiles is leaning over Derek, arms on his shoulders, explaining to Derek how to use the remote, “Okay so ‘2’ is accelerate, ‘1’ is your brakes and reverse. Now, when you run into a rainbow glass cube thing you use the ‘up’ and ‘down’ arrow to send your items forwards, or backwards. I personally send everything backwards, so I don’t run over them myself or accidentally throw a shell into a wall only for it to come back and hit myself, or on the rare occasion I get a bomb, blow myself up. So, send them back is my advice, unless you want to be cool and attempt to aim for someone. ‘B’ is drift but only for the manual setting, which I like because if you drift long and hard enough you get a mini booster thing and fire. ‘A’ shows what’s behind you, you hold that down for as long as you need to look, ‘+’ pauses, and obviously, steering like you normally would. I like to play with the steering wheel because; a) it was free, and b) it’s easier.”

“So, accelerate, and throwing?” Derek leans his head on the couch to stare up at Stiles, one eyebrow raised.

“Well- yeah, basically,” Stiles shrugs and his face flushes slightly.

The game starts and Derek sucks -he’s coming twelfth- which really isn’t a surprise. The other three are top six and have overtaken Derek once each, but he’s loosening up and the tension in his shoulders is for a whole new reason, so Stiles smiles to himself as leans forwards over Derek and attempts to coach him while absentmindedly playing with his hair, _what, it’s right there?_ And when it’s Stiles’ turn to play, Derek rests his head back against the chair, hands folded in his lap, and closes his eyes which Stiles finds so not distracting at all…

 

It’s probably a couple of hours later and all the food has been long gone. Derek has taken Stiles’ last three rounds and he’s getting better. His highest rank is eighth, but given he’s never played before, he’s doing good.

The sun was beginning to set when Lydia and Jackson were the first to leave, claiming they had dinner plans. Boyd not long after claimed he was exhausted, and he and Erica walked home together. One cup later and Ms. McCall had texted Scott saying she was on her way and when she arrived, Isaac helped clean up before he too left.

While Derek used the bathroom, Stiles packed up all the Wii remotes and moved the coffee table back to its place in front of the couch. Derek flicked the lamp next to the couch on and planted himself next to Stiles in front of the cabinets going through their selection of movies.

“What do you want to watch?” Stiles asked, nudging Derek and glanced over at him. He wasn’t smiling but he wasn’t tense either. His eyes darted across the shelves of movies in front of him.

He shrugged, “I’m not- I don’t really watch movies…”

Stiles nods and glances over a couple of his favourites, lingering on Batman and Harry Potter.

“Do you want something cliché, romantic, sappy, supernatural-y, science-fiction-y, Disney-y,” he laughs to himself as he trails off. Half of these he hasn’t watched in years.

“Disney sounds good.”

“Disney?” Stiles looks at Derek wide-eyed and high-browed for the second time that day.

Derek blushes struggling to hold eye contact with Stiles and glances over the shelf purely dedicated to Disney films, “When my sisters were little, it’s all they’d watch,” he offers pulling out a few of them, “my favourite was ‘Mulan’, but they liked the real cliché ones like ‘The Little Mermaid’, or ‘Beauty and The Beast’.” He holds the three of them in his hands and smiles fondly down at them.

“Disney marathon it is,” Stiles claps him on the back and sets up the DVD player. Mulan first.

Stiles sits himself in the same spot he’s sat all day, in the corner of the couch leaning against the arm. When Derek joins he sits in between the middle and third seat and Stiles can’t help the pang in his chest as he bends down to undo his boots and slips them off.

As he leans up, he brings his feet up as well and Stiles suppresses a smile when he turns his back to him and lies down with his head in Stiles lap.

“Is this okay?” he asks looking up, god, so hopefully, his arms folded over his chest.

All Stiles can do is hold his arm up, not knowing where to put it and nod, “yeah.”

Derek chuckles and reaches up, grabbing Stiles’ arm and pulling it down to rest on his chest. The corners of his lips twitch up ever so slightly and he turns his head toward the TV. Stiles swallows and ignores the rapid rapid beating of his heart that he can hear in his own ears and tries to focus on the movie and not that Derek Hale is lying on his couch with his head in his lap.

 

When the movie finishes, they order pizza, a large Meat-Lovers for Derek and a large Supreme for Stiles and they eat it on the floor over the coffee table watching The Little Mermaid.

“IorwayshwshIhdapoahlwnIwoshzakdjshoIcoodprtntebamrmd,” Stiles _attempts_ to say around a mouthful of pizza.

Derek let’s out a big, abrupt belly laugh, his hands clutching his stomach with both hands and leant back, “What did you just say!?” And this time he’s wiping tears out of his eyes that don’t represent grief.

Stiles can’t help but giggle himself as he swallows his food, “ _I said,_ I always wished I had a pool, just so I could pretend to be a mermaid.”

“Of course, you did.”

Derek sighs and steals a slice of Stiles’ pizza. It goes unnoticed until Stiles dives in for another piece, “Hey!”

“What?” Derek asks trying for innocent with the remains of Stiles’ pizza in his mouth.

Stiles leaves his last two pieces for Derek, _werewolf appetite and all_ , and they sit on the ground for the remainders of the movie, getting up when the credits roll. Derek changes the movie, Beauty and the Beast, this time while Stiles relocates himself to the couch.

Clutching his stomach and groaning, he flops himself down, head on the arm rest and feet dangling over the opposite end, “I am full for the next three meals.”

Derek snorts.

“Okay, okay. Maybe not the next three _meals,_ but the next three hours at least!”

When he gets the movie playing, he raises an eyebrow at Stiles who shoots a cheeky grin back. Stiles moves his feet, so Derek has room at the end, but once he’s seated, Derek picks up Stiles’ legs and places them on his lap and rests his hands on his shins.

Stiles forces himself to keep his eyes on the TV, feeling his face warm as Derek traces his fingers absentmindedly up and down Stiles’ legs.

 

Not even halfway through the movie, in the corner of Stiles’ eye, he sees Derek’s head slowly drift downwards before jolting back up. He huffs through his nose and smiles, causing Derek to shoot a not-so-intimidating-tired glare his way.

Stiles shifts his body so that he’s lying on his side with his back to the couch, one arm dangling over the edge, the other flat down his side

Derek gets the hint.

Stiles lifts his legs to let Derek up only to put them down again. It’s a bit of a struggle as the couch is definitely not made for two people to snuggle, especially when one of them is as built as Derek and as gangly as Stiles is, but they make it work. Stiles shimmies down so he’s not so flat against the back of the couch to allow Derek to put his head on his shoulder. He immediately snakes his arm around Derek so it’s no longer dangling, the other resting on Derek’s hip. Derek snuggles as close as he can, their legs intertwined together, both their feet hanging over the arm. He has one arm tucked between him and Stiles, his hand resting under his own chin, the other resting just below the crook of Stiles’ neck.

Stiles is no longer paying attention to the movie. They both have their eyes closed, only a deep warm orange tint behind their eyelids. Stiles focuses on Derek’s breathing and the evenness of it, thinking he’s asleep.

He opens his eyes when Derek whispers a soft, “thank you,” as his body slowly relaxes into the unconscious. Stiles hugs him that little bit tighter and presses a kiss into his hair, lingering just a little before he shuts his eyes again.

 

That’s the last thing he remembers when he’s awoken to the soft jingling of keys and the clicking of the front door as it opens and shuts again.

As he opens his eyes, Stiles only flinches slightly in surprise when he’s greeted with his father standing at the end of the couch staring down at him.

Stiles quickly glances down and as far as he can tell Derek is still asleep. He relaxes a little and looks back to his dad who’s unfolding a blanket.

“It’s supposed to be a little cooler tonight,” he whispers walking around the couch to put the blanket over the boys.

“Dad, today- well technically _yesterday_ was-”

“I know.” He smiles softly down at his son and Stiles feels warm inside knowing he’s done something right and he’s not going to be lectured for it.

He beams back at his father who nods slightly awkwardly and turns around to turn the TV off.

“So… Pancakes for breakfast in the morning?”

Stiles nods as much as he can without bumping Derek’s head with his chin.

“Good. Goodnight.”

“Thanks, Dad,” Stiles replies followed by, “g’night” as the lamp is turned off, and somewhere between listening to his father gather his things and walking up the stairs, he’s out like a light with Derek still fast asleep in his arms.

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first fic so constructive criticism is most definitely welcome! Thank you so much for reading. If you liked it and if you're interested, I have a Tumblr that I use every now and then: https://love-me-a-good-book.tumblr.com


End file.
